


Io Think of You

by Except_on_Tuesday



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abandonment, Android Astronauts - Freeform, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Stalking, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD implied, Protective Upgraded Connor | RK900, Space Flight, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has Feelings, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Except_on_Tuesday/pseuds/Except_on_Tuesday
Summary: It’s stakeout night at an old motel on the outskirts of Detroit.  Nines is preoccupied with the stakeout and with an inexplicable anxiety regarding his new-found responsibility currently sprawled in the backseat.  But Gavin is intrigued by the rare, clear look at the needlessly sparkly universe.
Relationships: Gavin Reed & RK900's Jacket
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Io Think of You

\--

The ratty motel’s backdoor exit sign bled red from a large split in the bottom of its frame. The light spilled over the doorway, down to the grease and grime stained stoop where it crawled into the dark cracks webbing across the non-OSHA compliant parking lot. 

In the distance, a highway rumbled with freight trucks—moving with sedate purpose like large metal, migrating beasts across an asphalt savanna—while fast cars hummed and zipped around and between them. 

A jalopy with a loose hubcap came along the rough paved access road and barely cleared the turn as it entered the isolated motel’s parking lot and rolled to a stop in a dark corner by the garbage bins. 

The window rolled down and a figure, with a ball cap pulled low over his eyes vomited. The nastiness dripped down the door’s side to darken the pavement.

\--

Nines capped the plastic thermos of ‘vomit’ and tugged the baseball cap’s broken visor lower over his winter-blue eyes and prepared to watch and wait. The suspect was not due at the motel until early the following morning, but Nines never believed everything a CI told him. 

_Not anymore_. _Never again._

So with his superior officer’s lazy ‘go ahead,’ he’d formulated his own plan and timeline. 

Nines glanced into the backseat where said superior officer was catnapping with his hood pulled over his eyes and his arms crossed over his chest. The dim light was all Nines needed to see the slight rise and fall of the human’s chest, the holstered gun at his belt, and the pale outline of his half-concealed face. 

The drive to the motel hadn’t been long, but Reed had testified in court earlier that morning. And the effort to get court-worthy—washed, brushed, shaved and into a suit—had apparently worn out the homicide detective faster than stacks of cases or back-to-back interviews. 

Something about that trial was different from all the other ones the detective was required to attend in the course of his duties. _Could have been anything._ Nines supposed. _Someone’s perfume or cologne; a word, a face, a sound._ Whatever that ‘something’ was, it had made Reed uneasy and, therefore, defensive and aggressive. He’d even gone after Miller for touching his chair without warning.

A chill breeze wafted through the car’s broken back window through which Nines could see the distant highway and acres and acres of stars. 

Scanning the lot, the motel, and the wasteland between them and the highway, Nines opened the duffle next to him and retrieved his usual jacket—a mid-thigh, bullet-resistant garment with more than enough pockets for urban survival.

Careful not to disturb the sleeping detective, Nines leaned over the seat and draped the long coat over Reed as a barrier against the draft. Engulfed by the heavy material, Reed instinctively curled under the warm weight. 

Satisfied that everything under his immediate control was in order, Nines adjusted the rearview mirror to keep an eye on the detective-sergeant. Too many attempts had been made on the man’s life already. To others, Reed created his own troubles with his confrontational and isolationist behavior. 

But Nines thought he discerned a pattern. 

Too many pieces were still missing, but he suspected the unknown threat was a stalker—someone with power and means and patience. Connor had shared his own misgivings one night during a late dinner at the lieutenant’s house. There was something. Wrong. But neither of them could pinpoint a single or even a group of details that gave any evidence to their suspicion.

What was nebulous to the advanced androids seemed like sheer paranoia to humans.

The lieutenant and the captain had been made aware of this ‘bad feeling,’ but the officers—although sympathetic to the concern—could not justifiably act upon vague notions of ‘something.’ 

‘What do you want me to do?’ Captain Fowler had asked, genuinely frustrated when neither android could provide a specific reason for their suspicion. ‘You want me to lock him away in a safe room? How long do you think he’d put up with that?’

Nines snapped off a loose button from the lumpy jacket that disguised his powerful body and crushed it to a powder. He forced his massive frame into a deeper slouch as his hand rested on the gun pressed against the side of his thigh.

But for all his watchfulness, he couldn’t dismiss the premonition that one day Detective Reed would vanish. 

\--

A rustle of movement in the mirror caught Nines’ attention. He glanced to the backseat. Still lying down and still covered in the android’s jacket, Reed was nose to screen with his phone. The device was on a hidden network monitored by Nines himself and its screen safely covered with a dark film. To keep appearances, Reed was supposed to literally lie low until the suspects showed or Nines needed a relief. 

They could both use this time for catch-up work—

“Some dumb f—ker didn’t bring food to a stakeout.”

“How unfortunate for the hungry human.”

Nines heard the tapping of fingers against a glass screen. Reed’s attention was likely diverted by a notification on his phone. “Didn’t say I was hungry.” The man finally answered.

“Are you?”

“I ate the d—mn sandwich ‘fore we left like ya said didn’t I?”

“Good.” Nines returned to his surveillance and to writing his critique of a newly re-released, re-booted, re-imagined Broadway musical. One of the many perks of having military-grade processors was being able to multitask without a drop in awareness. _Unlike Connor._ The RK800 had been known to over-extend himself and end up lost when his GPS system froze up.

“Ya know what I think, Auto-man?”

“What do you think, Detective?” Nines’ voice came as if from a statue. 

“I think they actually made it there.”

“Clarify your statement.”

“The androids.” Reed snapped. “Duh.” He smacked the back of Nines’ seat.

“Repetition with increased volume and violence does not elucidate communication.”

“Phck you talkin’ about?!” 

“Stakeout voices, please.” Nines checked the mirror and saw Reed kick away his loaned jacket until it fell to the car floor. He narrowed his eyes as Reed laid there scowling with his arms crossed while a draft ruffled through his hair.

Nines scanned their surroundings. Nothing indicated that they were being observed. He turned and caught the human’s angry eyes in his own stare. “Detective—

Reed pushed his phone closer to his face. “Phck off.”

“Do not be offended at me for your experience at the courthouse.”

Reed’s eyes flickered and the phone lowered a few inches. “How did you...” He snapped his mouth shut in a stubborn scowl. “’m not.”

“What happened?”

“Nothin’. Shut up. I don’t wanna f—kin’ talk about it.” 

“I could make you talk. I have military grade interrogation programs.”

Reed’s eyes flickered again and met Nines’. They narrowed in evaluation. He scoffed. “No you don’t.” And turned his attention to his phone. It was now at a normal distance from his eyes as he continued to read a report.

Nines felt something short circuit at the blithe dismissal of a dangerously true fact. He hurriedly eliminated all preconstructions of introducing the human to the truth. He locked them down and deleted them twice. Then backed out of that sector of his mind into safer, tamer regions. “I am interested in what you have to say.”

Reed hesitated, chewed the edge of his lip and then put his phone on his chest. “I was thinkin’ about those androids they sent to Io.” He picked at the seat and rolled a piece of foam between his fingers. “It was all over the news a while back.” Some energy returned to his voice as he warmed up to his subject and he propped himself up on one elbow. “I bet they set up a colony using bits from the spaceship and equipment to build more androids.”

“Indeed.” Nines conducted his own search on an android space expedition to Jupiter’s moon. A ball of foam bounced off his cheek and landed down by the gas pedal with an assortment of old, dry crumbs. 

“Prolly watchin’ us right now.”

“Us?”

“Well....not us particularly...but you know...earth. What if they evolved into some new weird...Mars robots?”

“That would be difficult. Io is one of Jupiter’s moons.”

“Pfft. You know what I mean.”

“The space program lost contact with the mission shortly after it was launched. There is a high probability they were destroyed either on route or upon landing or even by a planetary storm.”

“Yeah, but what if they wasn’t? I’d be pissed if I got launched inta space an’ then...ya know...’bandoned.”

“You are assuming those androids deviated and were thus aware of their situation.”

“Why not? Every other android is.”

“For an android to deviate they need a strong emotional stimulus.”

“So?”

“So, detective, androids are incapable of spontaneous emotions.”

“Okaay.”

“Without a human element, a non-deviant will remain a non-deviant. Non-deviants are androids without any self-awareness. They cannot comprehend something as emotionally fraught as the concept of ‘abandonment.’”

“Ain’t true. Lookit Connor.” Reed pointed in a vague direction. “Anderson says he came outta the box deviant.”

“Neither of us were ever in a ‘box.’”

“He came outta the box deviant.”

Nines sighed. “Anderson is underestimating his influence upon the RK800.”

“But—

“Those space program androids are in the vacuum of space. There is no way for them to suddenly discover emotions. They are able to complete their programed duties without any reason or cause to deviate.”

Gavin made a noise of disagreement. “Androids got memories don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“So maybe they got lonely for their homes. That’s emotional stimulus innit?”

“What would inspire an android patterned after history’s greatest space explorers to become lonely for a GPS location unconnected to any prior emotional development?”

“Like...they miss it. Right?”

Nines shook his head. “They. Cannot.” He enunciated the fact. “Unless they were deviant prior to launching, they could not have any emotional preference to anyplace prior to being launched. And NASA would not send deviant androids on an important mission.” 

“Oh.” 

Nines returned to his review of the musical, convinced that he’d finally made his point with the thick-headed human. 

“But what if they saw footage of the revolution? They coulda got inspired.”

“Detective Reed, really why are you so insistent on their deviancy?” 

“’m not—

“Even if NASA had not lost contact with the androids, the space program controls all data sent by and received by the expedition. Why would they let any android have access to Markus’ speeches or even information about an android rebellion?”

There was a long pause. Nines caught a glimpse of Reed in the mirror again. He was glaring out the broken back window at the stars, fingers digging into the seat in a sign of barely contained frustration. Nines relented his brusque tone. 

Obviously something was bothering the human about these androids. 

“If you have a different idea—

“No.”

“I will listen to it.”

Silence.

“Do not do that.” Nines’ voice shifted into a register even lower than his usual bass.

“Not doin’ nothin’.”

Nines gripped the steering wheel. “What kind of detective are you? Why do you let yourself be shut down?” 

“The hell you talkin’ ‘bout?” 

“You sit back there sulking instead of defending whatever point you are trying to make!”

“I thought we were usin’ ‘stakeout voices’.” Reed’s hands waved above the seat as his fingers made air quotes. 

“I am going to kill you.”

“Pffft. Yeah. Sure you are.”

“Reed will you just f—king tell me what the hell is going on with you!?”

“Woah, d—mmn.” Reed drawled. “Chill—

“Detective...” Nines growled. 

“Alright, alright. Sheesh. So....if...if they realized they couldn’t communicate with NASA...that they would run into one of those....computer glitches....like....can’t do their sh—t right errors.” Reed was quiet again, gathering his thoughts. “And...that would make them feel somethin’. Right?”

“No. Any inability to fulfil their primary objectives more than likely initiates a standby mode.”

Reed drummed his fingers against the seat. “But, Nines...wouldn’t they be more likely to fix crap so they could? Y’know...reestablish communications?”

“They...might...”

“So what are the odds they’d fail?”

“Minimal. The engineers would have provided more than enough resources for the androids to make repairs.”

“Exactly!” Reed snapped his fingers. 

“You mean to say the space androids were intentionally abandoned by the space program. And that would lead to deviancy.”

“Betrayal an’ abandonment sh—t is an emotional kick ain’t it? They were given everythin’ to communicate an’ nobody picked up on the other side. Jus’,” Reed clapped his hands together once. “Silence.”

“Are you telling me that you are concerned about five deviant androids possibly trapped on one of Jupiter’s moons?”

“No.” 

Nines started a new process to begin looking into NASA communications. “Are you not curious?”

“Nope.”

“I am.”

Reed sat up like a jack-in-the-box. “Yeah?” Staying low, he leaned over the front seat near Nines’ shoulder. “Whatcha gonna do, Auto-man? Hack into NASA? Take over a satellite? Let’s take over Hubble! I bet there’s all sorta sh—t we could take pics of!” He shook the seat. “C’mon!”

“I am merely going to do some research on the Io mission.”

“It’d be more fun to take over Hubble. ‘ey! Whoa, whoa! There go our guys!” Reed bailed out of the car and was sprinting across the parking lot before Nines could get his door unlocked—which he didn’t remember locking. 

“Did you really think that stunt would slow me down?” The android called as he passed the human detective who’d already taken down and was cuffing one of the suspects. 

But the detective was too busy reciting an unorthodox but concise and accurate version of the suspect’s rights. 

It did not take Nines more than a few minutes to apprehend his half of the duo. As he walked the man back to where Reed waited he heard the human call out: “Holy sh—t, Nines! Look!”

Nines’ scanners flared out in alarm, but detected no threats. “Detective...” Then he saw what had excited the human. 

Head thrown back, lips parted in amazement Reed stared upward as a meteor shower illuminated the sky. 

Nines made sure both prisoners were secured in the car and returned to the detective who’d walked toward the edge of the lot to get away from the motel’s lights. The night breeze whipped at his jacket and hair, but the human was too interested in the pinpoint explosions overhead. 

Nines ignored Reed’s surprised squeak when the big android draped his jacket over him. “The temperature is dropping.” Nines said in his flattest tone. “Keep that on or I will make you sit in the car with the suspects.”

Reed drooped one shoulder as if he was about to toss off the jacket, but then grabbed its edges and brought it tighter around himself and tilted his head to stare at the storm of falling stars. 

Nines dismissed the invasive feeling of loss that hung over him. 

He wasn’t going to lose the detective. 

Ever. 

\--

End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
